I sing a song of winter,
 I sing a song of spring.
 I sing a song of new love,
 Songs that the seasons bring.

 I awaken with a feeling,
 sometimes weary at a glance,
 looking at my life's condition
 in the mirror of by chance.
 Sometimes [bad word] to visit.
 I can hear them in the trees
 or an elephant with thunder
 rolling gently through the breeze.

 Sometimes thoughts of [bad word] sailing
 and I see you, see your face,
 and I hear a voice that whispers,
 that calls to bring me grace.
 One that bids me sing another world
 and helps me when I dare
 To gather, in the darkness,
 golden beads for my hair.
 So the mornings bring the sunshine,
 sometimes they bring the rain,
 and when a [bad word] to me,
 I sing a song, again